In a quiet little town, there lived a boy named Oliver.
Oliver had a mop of curly brown hair and eyes that always sparkled with wonder. Every evening, his favorite thing to do was lie by the window and watch the sky.
The sky looked like a deep blue velvet blanket, sprinkled all over with twinkling stars.
“If only I could catch a star,” Oliver whispered to himself, “it would light up my whole room.”
That night, a very small star suddenly slipped down from the sky.
It didn’t fall quickly at all. It floated down like a glowing feather, slowly, slowly, until it landed in the little garden behind Oliver’s house.
Oliver’s eyes went wide with surprise.
“A star has fallen!”
He pulled on his fluffy slippers, wrapped himself in his blue coat, and tiptoed downstairs. The garden was very quiet, except for the crickets singing in the grass.
Next to a white daisy, Oliver saw a tiny, silvery ball of light. It was no bigger than an apple, and it blinked softly, on and off.
“Hello,” Oliver said, crouching down. “Are you a star?”
The little star wobbled gently and made a tinyting sound, like a small bell.
Oliver was delighted. He carefully reached out both hands, hoping to pick it up.
But the little star was so light that it floated up from his palms, like a glowing balloon.
“Don’t worry,” Oliver said softly. “I won’t hurt you.”
The little star seemed to understand. It drifted back down into his hands. It felt warm, like a kitten that had been sleeping in the sun.
Oliver carried the little star into his room.
At once, the room began to glow. His toy train on the wall shimmered, the teddy bear on the bookshelf seemed to open its eyes, and even the building blocks on the floor turned golden.
“See?” Oliver said proudly. “I told you you’d light up my room.”
The little star bounced happily on the bed, once, then again.
It hopped onto the pillow, and the pillow became the moon. It hopped onto the blanket, and the blanket became a cloud. It hopped onto the tip of Oliver’s nose, and Oliver couldn’t help it.
“Achoo!”
The little star zipped up to the ceiling in a fright.
Oliver laughed. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to.”
The little star seemed to laugh too, and its light grew even brighter.
But after a while, Oliver noticed that the little star didn’t look quite so happy anymore.
It stopped jumping around and sat quietly on the windowsill, looking out at the sky. The sky was high and far away, and the other stars were twinkling there, as if calling it home.
Oliver sat beside it and asked gently, “Do you want to go back?”
The little star nodded, and its light grew a little dim.
Oliver felt a little sad. He had wanted to keep the star beside him, so that every night would be bright. But when he saw how the little star looked at the sky, he suddenly understood.
A star’s home is in the sky.
Just as birds belong in the forest, and fish belong in the sea, the little star belonged where it came from.
“I’ll help you go back,” Oliver said.
He found a clear glass jar and poked a few small holes in the lid. The little star floated slowly inside, and its light shone through the glass like a gentle little lamp.
Oliver carried the jar into the garden.
But the sky was very high. He stood on his tiptoes, yet he couldn’t reach. He climbed onto a small stool, but it still wasn’t enough.
“Maybe we need a little help,” Oliver thought.
He ran back inside and brought out his favorite kite. The kite was blue, with a crescent moon and soft white clouds painted on it.
Oliver tied the glass jar gently to the kite string.
“Ready?” he asked.
The little star gave a little flash inside the jar, as if to say, “Ready!”
Oliver ran into the night wind.
The kite rose slowly, higher and higher. The daisies in the garden lifted their heads, the old oak tree rustled as if it were clapping, and the neighbor’s orange cat peeked over the garden wall.
The kite carried the little star over the rooftops, past the chimneys, and beyond the town clock tower.
At last, it flew very close to the sky.
Oliver gently tugged the string.
The lid of the glass jar loosened.
The little star floated out.
It didn’t leave right away. Instead, it circled once above Oliver’s head and lightly touched his forehead. In that moment, Oliver felt warm inside, as if he had just drunk a cup of hot cocoa.
Then the little star flew up into the sky and joined the other stars.
It shone just a little brighter than the rest, as if it were winking at Oliver.
Oliver stood in the garden, looking up with a smile.
He hadn’t kept the star, but he knew the little star would always remember him.
From then on, every night, when Oliver lay by the window to watch the sky, he could always find that brightest little star.
It would blink softly, as if saying,
“Good night, Oliver.”
And Oliver would whisper back,
“Good night, little star.”
Then he would crawl under his soft blanket, close his eyes, and drift slowly into sleep with a sweet smile on his face.
